Old Man Vacanas
from Blue Sonoma
1
The old man
to whom I’m married
hits the sack again
after breakfast.
A black bear
out in the rain
on Blueberry Flats.
Is it too wet
to hibernate? The muddy creek
burgeoning.
By lunch, he’s up.
The sky’s no lighter – candles
with our tea.
Tell me, can a soul
fatten up for winter?
5
The old man who picks up the phone
does not get your message.
Call again.
Please call again.
The cats leave squirrel guts
on the Tibetan rug.
Augury I cannot read.
You’ve got to talk with me.
I scrape glistening coils
into a dust pan,
spit on drops of blood and spray ammonia.
The blood spreads into the white wool.
I am so sick of purring beasts.
Don’t tempt me, old man.
Today I have four arms
and weapons in each hand.
11
The old man
takes his choppers out
when chicken sticks to them.
He parks them in a glass
of blue fizz.
DNA from fossil bones
tells us we’re siblings to Neanderthals—
and the small arrangements
we make? Language, travel, art? Props
in a little, local, theatre of light.